


so the lantern in your heart won't fade

by catchandsingthesuninflight



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Am I tagging correctly?, Angst and Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, POV Second Person, Pining, Requited Love, farah comes in at the end because i love her, i live in the US so if i get any terms wrong s o r r y, nightmares are shitty, probably not lmao, so much pining, surprise surprise ava detective marquez doesn't like admitting her Feelings either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchandsingthesuninflight/pseuds/catchandsingthesuninflight
Summary: The same old story: you wake up with a terrible fucking nightmare, you go make yourself tea, and you don't even think about going back to sleep.  Except this time, Ava hears you.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	so the lantern in your heart won't fade

**Author's Note:**

> my first contribution to the gayhaven chronicles, because BOOK THREE IS ON DEMO THIS WEEK so let me get my detective and agent ava together before canon does it for me (because that's definitely going to happen).
> 
> title taken from "Guillotine" by Jon Bellion, simply because i am not very good at naming things myself.

“You know, we really have got to stop meeting like this.”

Ava stops in the doorway, her brow furrowing. “Detective? What are you doing up?”

“Please, don’t let me stop you from raiding the fridge,” you quip, chin balanced on your palm. The shit-eating grin only comes _after_ she rolls her eyes, stepping into the living space. “Couldn’t sleep." You shrug, and leave out the _again_ , in favor of pulling your mug of tea closer. It’s lukewarm, long past steaming, and the comfort you gain from cradling it in your hands is minimal. 

When you realize a few seconds later than is probably socially acceptable that the conversation has come to a lull, you glance up to find Ava standing in front of you, arms crossed. Watching you. 

“What?” you ask, your brow arching, because far be it from her to criticize a lapse in your otherwise reliable people skills.

“You look…” She falters, reaching for the right words. “Worse for wear.”

“Thanks, Ava,” you drawl, because you can be a bit of a shit when you’re tired. “You always say the sweetest things.”

“I didn’t mean--” She stops herself, her eyes narrowing. Looking over you. 

You get caught on her eyes. A darker green than normal in the shadows; you hadn’t had the energy to turn the lights on, and she doesn’t need them to see. With or without the lights, there’s a sharpness behind them that makes them beautiful. _She_ is beautiful, and you find your own eyes tracing the angle of her jaw and the curve of her lips, not for the first time. Trying to commit her features to memory.

“Detective?” she calls, breaking your reverie. _Detective, detective,_ it’s always _detective._ “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Not a thing.” _Really hope it wasn’t a declaration of love._ You snort out loud, and Ava’s piercing look turns--hang on, is that _worry?_ “Shouldn’t you be in the training room right now?” you say quickly, in hopes of derailing whatever this is, but _then_ you just feel like an asshole. “You know since--uh, training, s’sort of your thing,” you try to amend. _Muscles,_ you definitely do _not_ say. But _christ_ , the woman is built. 

You really need to sleep.

“Are you feeling alright?” Ava asks, and you try not to get lost in that voice, in that _concern._ Not now. Not when the metallic taste and crimson slickness of blood still lingers from your dream. There are things that you won’t allow your nightmares to taint.

You give a quick nod instead, blinking to stay in the room. “I’m good. Just need to—you know.” Oh, your interpersonal skills are _really_ shining tonight, aren’t they. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

She opens her mouth to answer, but hesitates. She has that stubborn expression on, like she’s thinking too much about what she’s about to say and probably won’t end up saying it anyway, because she’s above being honest about her feelings, and. 

You _really_ hope it wasn’t a declaration of love. 

“I heard you,” she says, and you exhale a quiet sigh of relief before even thinking to process what that means. The way she’s looking at you, though. Still hesitant, but soft, in a way that makes those winged insects of love flutter in your stomach.

“You heard me?” 

Ava frowns. You still aren’t connecting the dots, too busy thinking about...other things. Then, she says, “Your nightmare,” and you can’t stop yourself from freezing.

That’s okay, though; you’re good at playing things off. “Ah, shit. Did I wake any of the others?” 

Yes, you _know_ they don’t sleep. Small slip up, whatever. What matters is that the ball of concern is back in their court, so--

“Lourdes,” Ava says.

And all the breath is stolen out of your lungs, if only for a moment.

You try to recover; it is impossible. “Yes, Ava?” you try, but it doesn’t come out as humorous as you’d hoped, and you suddenly just feel very tired, and very light, all at once.

She moves with a powerful grace. The grace is something new--you remember the soldier’s stiffness that she wore when you first met, that she still wears whenever she’s trying to keep her walls intact. The power, less so. Ever since you first set eyes on her, she has always been a pillar of strength, of protection, of duty.

This is something different. There is a serene fluidity to her steps as she takes a seat beside you. For once, she is not keeping an eye out. Tonight, in the darkness of your home, there is nothing to fear, nothing she needs to protect you--or anyone--from. 

She sits down beside you. The motion is profound in its simplicity. She’s not anywhere near enough to be touching you, not even close, but the mere presence of her is solid, reassuring. Ava is a fixed point in your slowly unraveling life, and maybe you’re an idiot, but you love her. You can be that honest with yourself, in your mind, where she will never know.

“What was it about?” she asks you, her voice infinite in its softness.

But you don’t know how to answer. 

You know _what_ the answer is. Your nightmare had started like it always does. Blood, blisters, pain. A man’s laugh, restraints, and _teeth_ \--ripping, tearing into your flesh, stealing your life till you were down and dying on the floor. And more blood still.

Then the scene changed.

You thought the worst of it was the weakness. All those distorted fragments of memories when you were back limping through darkness, knowing that you were about to be caught, that you were about to die. No pain like the agony of fear and fatigue. 

How wrong you were.

The scene changed, and it wasn’t your body on the floor. It was Ava, bruised and bloody and broken. Eyes open. Dull green and lifeless.

You had woken up with a choked scream. Didn’t even try to go back to sleep.

It was just a fucking dream. Ava is here beside you, alive and well, safe and sound. It wasn’t real. 

_(Your choice. Your sacrifice. The woman you love on the ground, in a hospital bed, and that’s your fault. If it comes down to it again, if you have to make that choice again--her, or an innocent person you have sworn to protect--what will you do?)_

Yeah, you _definitely_ can’t say any of this out loud. So you roll back your shoulders, put on as much of a smile as you can muster. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell her, and your voice cracks, but you keep on, stretching your arms out. “I should probably get back to bed, or I won’t be up to agency standards tomorrow.” Back to bed. Yeah, _right_ \--

Her hand rises slowly to cup your jaw, her thumb brushing softly against your cheek. Wiping tears away. Where did those come from?

The shocked warmth of her touch only just breaks through the haze of your mind. You’re exhausted. You won’t let yourself go back to sleep.

Then Ava says, “Come on,” and takes your hand in hers. And what can you do but follow her?

You almost laugh when you reach your destination and she swings open the door. Scratch that, you _do_ laugh.

“Something funny?” she asks you, voice deadpan, but you don’t miss the way the corner of her lips twitch.

“It’s very _you,_ isn’t it?” you grin, as you step into the room and glance around. There isn’t much to see, and yet you drink in every corner of it—the basic cream walls and plain, utilitarian curtains and a single full bed. The only furnishing, a little potted cactus sitting on the wooden bedside desk, has Nat written all over it.

“I’m not exactly here very often,” she says.

“If you did, would you actually change anything?” 

She gives you a look. Then, in that weirdly accurate French accent of hers, “ _T_ _ouché."_

“I mean, I didn’t even think that you’d have a room,” you admit, tossing her a lopsided smile. “It’s nice. Bit of an ask, though: what am I doing here?”

You’re not totally freaking out internally right now. You’re not.

“Ah,” Ava says, sheepish. She shifts, busies her gaze for a few moments before a sort of resolve passes over her features. “Well, I’m going to sleep. And--” her gaze reconnects with yours, eyes green, piercing, endlessly brilliant, “--you are welcome to join me. If you want.” Then, without waiting for an answer, she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing her boots.

You should leave. What’s even happening right now? What are you doing here? Definitely, you should _definitely_ leave.

You’re not going to, though.

Instead, you take a seat beside her and kick off your slippers, then cross your legs on the bed, and look at Ava. Watch her hands working at her boots, fingers deft, movements precise. Trace and chronicle the sight of her, and keep it close to your heart. The dark blonde of her hair. The pale cream of her skin. _Hang on--_

“Are you blushing?” you ask, voice edged with laughter and fondness.

“No,” she lies, and her face reddens further. “ _Lourdes--”_

“I didn’t know vampires could blush.”

“I didn’t know humans could--” She catches herself at the last moment with a huff.

“No, please, continue!” you laugh, and she rolls her eyes.

She finishes kicking off her boots and you follow as she slides up the bed and under the thin blanket. You on the right, her on the left. You’re both careful to leave some space between you two. 

Or at least, you had thought that was the plan. Apparently you’re both feeling braver than you had during all the months working the maa-alused case combined, because Ava loops her arm around your waist, slow enough that you could ask her to stop if you wanted. You don’t, and instead nestle closer.

Two seconds like that, warm in her arms (in her _bed,_ holy shit), and you’re already starting to drift off. 

Is this a dream? If it is, it’s the best one you’ve had in a very long time.

But the fear of your actual dreams still linger. You don’t want to wake up here with fear twisting in your chest, don’t want your nightmares touching any of this--

“Lou,” Ava says, low, smooth, music to your ears. You can feel the word vibrate through her chest where it’s pressed against your back. 

“Ava,” you respond in the exact same tone, only half-asleep. You know with absolute certainty that she’s rolling her eyes again. With fondness, of course.

“Stop worrying,” she tells you. “You can sleep. I’m here, I’ll--” She falters, then sighs, another rumble against your back. 

You take her hand in yours. Entwine your fingers. “I know."

She hums, satisfied. “Good night, then, Detective.”

You almost laugh at that, but you settle for a smile she can’t see. “Night, Ava.”

Three words, on the tip of your tongue. You know them as sure as you know anything. But you’ll save them for another time. For now, this is more than enough.

Sleep claims you, lying in the arms of the woman you love. 

* * *

“--can’t find _anyone_ , today. Fearless leader, you in here? Nat told me to tell you that Agent Marquez told her that we need to be at the facility in an hour, and guess who--”

You groan, trying to bury yourself further beneath the covers. “Farah, I love you, but that was the best sleep I’ve gotten in _months,_ and I would’ve--what are you smiling at?”

“OH!” Farah grins the widest grin you’ve ever seen her wear, which is _really_ saying something. “OH-HO- _HO!"_

Ava groans. Sometime while you were asleep you’d turned to face her, though her arm is still wrapped around you. You both register it at the same time, have that same half-second of blue-screening, before you give her the warmest smile you’re capable of, bringing your hand up, slow, to trace her jaw. She doesn’t stop you, the tension slowly subsiding from her form.

“FINALLY!”

“Farah,” Ava growls.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll leave you two alone, now!” You laugh as she disappears in a blur, though you can still hear her _extremely_ enthusiastic shouting. “MORGAN! YOU OWE ME FIFTY POUNDS! NAT, GUESS WHAT--”

“You look mortified,” you giggle, running your thumb over Ava’s cheek. You freeze. “Are you?”

“What? No,” she smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. “I just realized, if we’re meeting with your mother today…” She trails off, though the dry look she gives you is more than enough to catch her drift.

“Oh,” you cover your face with your hand, hiding your smile of absolute utter dread. “Oh, _no.”_

Ava laughs. You check _the most beautiful sound_ off your list, and wonder if you can get to the rest of the senses within the day.

“I mean, we don’t have to tell her?” you suggest, futilely and only half-serious.

“Yes, we do,” she says immediately, giving you one of her trademark Looks.

Cue a sigh, long and overdramatic. “Yeah, we do.” You run a hand over your hair, puffing out your cheeks. “Uh, what exactly are we telling her? Like, that we’re a thing, or--or, I mean, _are_ we a thing?”

Within the space of a second, you experience the whole array of human emotions. Mostly embarrassment--what, you just assumed you were in a relationship because she let you have a sleepover so you wouldn’t have nightmares? That is _absolutely_ within friendship parameters, you are _such--_

“Do you want us to...be a thing?” Ava asks you, cutting clean through your monologue.

“Yes,” you say, completely honest. Lay your heart out for her, to do with as she pleases. You swallow. “Do you?”

Another half-second of hell, your stomach twisting, your chest aching. How is it even possible to _want_ someone this much? And then--

She kisses you.

It is gentle, cautious at first. Then you respond, your lips parting under hers, and the kiss deepens until the heat of it becomes all-consuming. She pulls back, and you let her, though your hunger for her is not even close to satiated. It's alright. You have time.

“That was quite the answer,” you say, and she snorts.

And you kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me @gayprophets on Tumblr, i'm friendly and like to go on about my gay interactive novel characters and their ROs


End file.
